That's Sick
by Escerptine
Summary: In which Arthur Kirkland falls in love with the attractive surfer stoner from the United States.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't as if Arthur expected any this to happen, or even wanted it to happen in any way. Nevertheless, it happened anyways, like many things in his life. There was no explanation as to why his mother left him and his family, she just did. He didn't know why his brothers were such tossers, they just were. And he still had no fucking idea why he was into guys, he just was. Arthur had many questions but accepted that they would never become answered. It's just how he lived his life; clumsily grasping at the wall for a light-switch that wasn't there. He had come to terms with this part of his life a long time ago.

Arthur was a relatively simple teenager. He enjoyed small things like music and tea and a nice book. Sure, he had a quick temper and a permanent bitchface but he normally remained very composed. He learned to live his life a certain way due to an ignorant family, ignorant friends and an ignorant world. He kept to himself, in short. A peaceful life is all Arthur Kirkland strived for.

October sixteenth. It was just another meaningless blur of a day in Arthur's memory. The only slightly colorful thing about his day that he could recall, as he sat in his third-period class trying to take his notes as fast as he could, was that his family had run out of milk. At that very dull moment, a boy poked his head in through the door, causing the entire class to sharply turn their heads in unison.

"Yo…"

He was slouched as he introduced himself. He neglected the school uniform and chose to present himself in baggy cargo shorts bunched at the knee, a grey t-shirt and a hoodie. His eyes were partly concealed with square glasses. He seemed to have a habit of flipping his tousled hair out of his face, Arthur noticed.

"Hey, I'm Alfred and I uh…" he trailed off, a glazed look on his face. "Oh, right!" he snapped back to attention. "I like surfing and I came here from California!" he laughed, quite an enjoyable thing to hear in Arthur's opinion. The teacher showed him a seat, one very far from Arthur. Not that Arthur cared, because he didn't. He really didn't.

And it wasn't as if Arthur spent the rest of Physics concentrating on his broad shoulders and cute smile and sun kissed skin. No, no, Arthur was most definitely taking notes on velocity and vectors and… damn, what was that called again?

The more Arthur stared, the more he came to realize that Alfred would never notice him. He already had himself surrounded by a plethora of pretty girls and very masculine boys. There's no way the loud, confident, (probably straight) American would ever notice a scrawny, annoying British fag.

Arthur Kirkland was very good at accepting truths. He learned to tolerate that he would never amount to much, he'd stay single till death and that he'd probably develop a drinking problem by age thirty. He was totally over it. And he was determined to accept that his crush (was crush too soon? Arthur didn't know.) would never mirror his feelings. It'd just take time. He just had to try to avoid the boy until then. It wouldn't be hard. After all, Arthur was only protecting himself from imminent heartbreak.

There were very few people Arthur could tolerate. Few, in this case, meaning one. Arthur could only tolerate one person, his only friend, Kiku. They had several things in common, love for simplicity and tea. Kiku was mellow and caring, two things Arthur valued very much. Arthur was also very jealous of his friend. Insanely jealous, for he had accomplished something Arthur was sure he could never do. Kiku had somehow managed to snag a hot Greek boyfriend.A protective boyfriend that followed him around like some sort of kitten. Everywhere Kiku went, Heracles would be. It's like they spent every waking moment together. It was cute, but it got old. He could deal with it most of the time, except for when that repulsive frog would follow. Today for example, the frog tagged along for lunch.

Not an actual frog, mind you. Arthur would much rather be in the presence of a frog than have to deal with Francis. In short, Francis was French, meaning he was everything Arthur despised in the form of a human. His girly-ass hair and clothes and his sugary manner of speech irritated Arthur to no end. He was just so French. And the Frenchman enjoyed torturing Arthur as much as he enjoyed a nice round of fucking (which is a lot, from the way he boasts about it).

Francis put a heavy arm on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur didn't acknowledge this. He proceeded to look over his math homework and pretend that he wasn't there.

Through his peripheral vision he could see the Frenchman moving but payed no mind. _The law of sines states that a over sine a is equal to_-

And then he felt the Frenchman lick the shell of his ear, his slimy snail-eater tongue tracing a perfect half circle.

"FUCK!" he shoved Francis away and threw his notebook on the floor. "I need a smoke," he muttered as he grabbed his bags and head out of the cafeteria. Arthur didn't deal with bullshit the "right" way, he found that substances such as alcohol and cheap cigarettes did the trick better than anything else. He had become dependent on cigarettes for release. Over the years at this shit hole high school he found the perfect spot to smoke and get away with it. It was a little nook not far from the main building but still away from sight. It was where he would retreat when everything became too much. It felt safe.

He rounded the corner, fumbling for his lighter. "Fuck shit damn I forgot it." He sniffed the air. It smelled a bit funny but he proceeded. He checked all of his pockets twice and he cursed repeatedly as he rounded the last corner.

He was met with a peculiar sight. He dropped his pack of cigarettes.

Alfred was snapping his lighter to a weird tube-y thing Arthur hadn't quite seen before. Alfred's snapping stopped as he met Arthur's gaze.

"Hey, dude, I'm Alfred. Don't mind me, just gettin' baked." Arthur stared. Alfred stared. Arthur picked up his pack and felt his face heat up.

He quickly stood up and ran away in the opposite direction, making sure to avoid Alfred's eyes.

What a fucking pathetic move, Arthur thought while shoving his pack of cigarettes deep in the trousers of his school uniform.

He didn't know what to make of Alfred yet. Arthur just didn't know.

* * *

Yeah so idk

I can't write for shit but i'm gonna try to have fun with this.

Leave a review or something I will love you forever.

Um, it's probably only gonna be about 3 chapters cos I'm lazy and I have a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

If you were to ask Alfred what his favorite things were, chances are he'd say surfing and smoking. Those were the two things that made Alfred Jones, Alfred Jones. And maybe, if you asked nicely, just maybe he'd mumble 'cute British blondes' quietly afterwards. Maybe.

As far as Alfred knew, he was completely straight. He loved girls as much as Matt Flyzik loves Mickey Mouse*. He loved girls and their pretty eyes and hair and bodies- definitely their bodies. And their nice lips and the noises they made when he- well, anyways, Alfred loves girls. But who's to say that boys couldn't posses those qualities?

As soon as he laid eyes on that cute lil fucker, Alfred immediately felt himself go rigid (maybe in more ways than you think). Alfred felt a little confused because, as far as he knew, dudes could never look that hot. Or hot at all, even. Alfred was mostly just intrigued.

It might have been his adorable-ass face or his clumsiness or his fucking _damn _fine ass that made him appear so irresistible. Alfred didn't know if this made him gay or bi or pansexual or whatever, but he could dig it if it meant having hot and heavy make out sessions with this pretty Britt. Alfred could dig it. Dick could totally work out. Totally.

He pondered this as he watched the other leave, his heart heavy in his chest. Alfred was fairly impulsive. He knew what he wanted and usually got it. And there was no fucking way that Alfred Jones would pass up any chance to chat up a potential… acquaintance? Friend? Did he dare say boyfriend?

"Yo wait up!" he shoved his bowl into a Ziploc bag and stuffed it in his shoulder bag. He ran down the short dirt path in pursuit of the boy. He spotted him a couple of yards away, hastily picking something up from the ground. As he neared, he felt his lips angle up in a grin.

"Hey dude, you didn't tell me your name," he says while kneeling down, their eyes meet quickly but Arthur ducks his head back down quickly, shoving the last dropped cancer stick back into the box. He feels a steady beat pick up in his chest as he straightens up and dusts himself off.

He manages a half-assed smile "Arthur." He walks back in the initial direction he was heading, grumbling something about his clumsiness and the "fucking big-ass rocks in the path". Alfred senses that his perfect opportunity is steadily slipping through his fingers.

He has to say something. He has to. Words have always been a touchy subject for Alfred. He has no idea how to articulate anything he feels. He was more of an actions kind of guy. He had no idea how to use sarcasm and innuendos and fancy stuff that seem to roll of other people's tongues so easily. Alfred preferred to skip the bullshit and just get down to the details.

"Hey dude wait up!" he chases after Arthur (his name didn't come as a surprise to Alfred, probably because half of the other guys at school were named Arthur). And for the third time today, Arthur greets Alfred with his usual bitchface.

"What." he states, crossing his arms in a fake display of anger. He wasn't angry at all; in face he was quite the opposite. He felt strangely happy that a guy that was way to attractive for his own good was showing interest in him. It was a first for him, as sad as it was to admit.

Alfred swallowed and flipped his hair, a habit that let him know he was nervous. Alfred got a good look at Arthur, his messy head of yellow, his swampy green eyes, and hey- are those cartilage piercings?

"I, hi, man. Um, do you think it'd be like, chill for us to be friends or something?" Alfred noticed that his eyes wavered for a moment and he leaned back, a motion that let Alfred know he was quite uncomfortable. The American knew he needed to act fast.

"I mean, you seem totally super rad, ya know?" he scratched the back of his head and forced his gaze away from Arthur. Everyone in this place is super tight-assed and it makes me wanna throw up. And like, uh, you seem super hella cool and stuff. Plus, I really-" he stopped himself before he embarrassed himself any further.

Arthur thought for a moment. Alfred's proposition seemed a little suspicious. I mean no hot surfers ever wanted to even look at Arthur, let alone talk to him. And he said 'hella', a word that made Arthur want to shove his head in a shredder. But Arthur had nothing to lose, and by the way Alfred hunched his shoulders with a faint- but detectable- blush spread across his golden cheeks, Arthur felt he could maybe, almost, sort of, possibly trust him. Arthur sighed.

"I suppose that could be okay." Alfred immediately cheered up and took Arthur's soft hands into his.

"Super rad! I'm throwing a chill party at my house on Saturday so maybe you should come!" And with that, the bell rang. The two boys grumbled profanities and head off toward their respected classes.

Arthur wasn't dumb. He knew that parties weren't for him. In fact, they were a definite danger-zone. Freshman year he ended up in the next town over missing his shirt and half of his hair with no phone or money in his torn pants. It was a predicament he couldn't even reveal to his very puzzled older brother. Ever since then, he tried to stay away from the party scene as best he could.

But to pass up a possible hang out with Alfred seemed to be nothing better. Hm, get shitfaced drunk and do something totally embarrassing that he would carry around for the rest of eternity or never talk to Alfred ever again, (which is what would eventually happen if he didn't show up to the party)? It would take him a while to determine the lesser of two evils.

Arthur debated this for a second. He didn't know, then again, Arthur never really knew. And as usual, Arthur braced himself for the possibility that his questions would remain unanswered, He would just have to wait until Saturday and go with his gut (which had a 50-50 success rate most of the time).

* * *

*Matt Flyzik is/was All Time Low's tour manager with an obsession for Mickey Mouse. Matt left the band a few weeks ago but he is still part of atl to me :D

Yeah so chapter two!

One more chapter left and it's gonna be longer than this one foshooo

Anyways hope you liked this even though its pretty messy and stuff.

im really just doing this for fun. and if you want some mood music or whatever i recommend heartless (the and their name was treason version) by a day to remember

anyways thanks for reading!

i appreciate it so so so so so much!


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